


TF Rare Pairing - Trick or Treat Challenge 2019 Edition

by Hours_Gone_By



Series: Monthly Writing Challenges [13]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers – All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Camp, Campfires, Campfires Cybertron Style Anyway, Camping, Comfort, Community: tf_rare_pairing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Energon, Energon Mining, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fog, Ghostbusting Decepticon Style, Ghosts, Grief/Loss, Haunted Mine, Hauntings, Horror, Implied/Referenced Stalking, Implied/Referenced Suicide, In The Woods, Kissing, Lap Sitting, Love Triangle, M/M, Mist, Murder, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phantom Hitchhiker, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – PTSD, Post-War, Rare Pairings, Rare Relationships, Road Trip, Ruthless Practicality, Scary Clowns, Space trip anyway, Spaceships, Spooky, Storytelling, Urban Legends, mines, mining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-09 02:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20846198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hours_Gone_By/pseuds/Hours_Gone_By
Summary: Fills forThe Transformers Rare Pairing Community's#2019TrickorTreatChallengeonDreamwidth/Tumblr/Pillowfort.---CW, chapter 2: Implied/Referenced Stalking and Implied/Referenced SuicideCW, chapter 4: Flashbacks, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD





	1. Storytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Hound go camping in the Cable Jungles and engage in the age-old traditions of telling scary stories and snuggling up afterwards.

Bluestreak sat down in front of the squat little heat lamp out in front of their tent, looking over it to Hound on the other side. Bluestreak had initially thought that his older sibling, Prowl, would be coming camping in the Cable Jungles with the, but Prowl had had to bow out at the last klik, so it was just Bluestreak and Hound, which Bluestreak didn't mind one bit. Bluestreak loved his sibling but without Prowl along this turned from a regular camping trip into a romantic one, something his fledgling relationship with Hound hadn't had yet. Of course, it would have been more romantic if they'd been sitting on the same side, or maybe with no heat lamp at all looking up at the stars. Bluestreak was sure he could have thought of a way to keep Hound warm without it.

"So, Bluestreak," Hound began, cheerful as always, "know any scary stories? They're a camping tradition, y'know."

"I know a few," Bluestreak told him. "But I don't know how scary they really are."

Hound chuckled. "Well, go on and let's see."

"Oh, um, okay." Bluestreak thought for a moment. "Oh, here we go.

"Um, so these two creators are going out for the night, and they hire a sitter for their creation. The sator says that once the creation is in bed the sitter should watch vids in their room because the creation sometimes has nightmares and they've been having a lot of them lately. The sitter thinks that's easy enough and once the juvenile is in bed the sitter goes into the creators' room and watches vids on his tablet. Only, there's this statue, in one corner, of a clown. It's maybe the size of a small mech, it feels like it's staring right at him, and it's just really creeping the sitter out, and he just can't ignore it.

"When the sator calls to check on how things are going, the sitter asks if he can move to a different room because the statue of the clown is just way too distracting and creepy. The comm just goes completely silent for a few nano-kliks, and then the sator says, 'get my creation up, and both of you leave the house right now. We don't have a clown statue.'"

"That is creepy," Hound said. He'd been leaning forward a little to listen to the story and hadn't straightened up. "Especially when you think about how long the clown would have been in the house to give the kid nightmares."

"And wonder where the clown was hiding when everyone was home."

"Or what they were doing when everyone wasn't." Bluestreak genuinely didn't want to think about that. "Your turn."

"Okay." Hound sat back again. "I've got a classic for you.

"A couple of mecha living on Luna I take their shuttle out into high orbit so they can make out somewhere they know they won't get interrupted. One of them tunes the ship's comm to a broadcast that plays soft music, just to help set the mood. It's all sweet and romantic, but just as they're really getting into each other, almost ready to jack in, the broadcast changes from music to a breaking news story. A serial killer's just escaped from the asteroid prison colony. He's got a spacecraft alt, a hook for a hand, and they're pretty sure he's somehow reenabled his t-cog and is headed toward Luna I.

"One of the mecha is worried because their shuttle isn't armed at all, but his lover says he's sure everything is fine and wants to get started again because he's still charged up. The other mech refuses and insists on being taken home as fast as possible. His lover gives in and brings the ship up to its highest speed since that's what the first mech wanted. It's only when they dock the shuttle and get out that they see a long scrape down the side of the shuttle and, caught in the plating near the thrusters, still sparking at the very end where it would attach to a mech's body, a sharp steel hook."

"Wait," Bluestreak said with a little frown, once he'd gotten past the initial shiver. "If they were in high orbit they were in microgravity. If the hook was sharp enough to catch in the plating of the shuttle, wouldn't they just have pulled the killer along with them?"

Hound laughed, his optics bright with genuine affection for Bluestreak. "That's one of the things I like so much about you, Blue. You question things. I guess he must have tried to pull away or something? Sorry if you were hoping to be scared, though."

"I was a little at first," Bluestreak admitted. "But…"

"But then you thought it through," Hound finished for him, still smiling. "I guess I owe you another story, then."

"Not 'owe,'" Bluestreak argued. "But, if you want to tell me another one you can. I like hearing you talk."

"Alright. One more." Hound shifted, settling into a slightly more comfortable position, and began again. "Stellar-cycles ago, a transport mech was hauling freight along a highway that ran through a section of a cable jungle, a lot like the one we're in now. He'd been travelling for a long time, and even though he wasn't low on fuel he needed to stop and recharge, get a little defrag time in. So he found what looked like a good place to pull over, just off the road, and powered down to rest in his alt mode. He was down for a few joors when his proximity sensors alerted him to someone's approach. Because he was travelling alone he always woke up for these alerts but when he checked his other sensors they weren't reporting anything. The mech figured it was a false alarm or a mechanimal or something, so he powered down again. A half a joor later his sensors went off, and this time they reported whoever or whatever had trigged them as even closer. Again, his other sensors didn't report anything. Well, they wouldn't, if it was a mechanimal running by, he thought, so he powered down for the third time. The next time his sensors went off the mech disengaged from his trailer and transformed, thinking that maybe it was a problem with his alt mode's sensors. He didn't pick up anything with his root mode sensors either – except his optics. There, on the ground all around him, was a spiral of tire tracks, spiralling in toward him, as if something were getting closer and closer and closer…"

Bluestreak was barely aware he was leaning forward, optics big. "What did he do‽"

"The mech transformed and hooked his trailer back up," Hound continued, "and he drove out of there and straight to the nearest town as fast as he could. When he saw a diner with the lights still on, he drove in, parked his trailer, and went in to get some fuel and just to be around other mecha. He hadn't meant to tell anyone about what happened, but he was obviously shaken up, and the server asked if anything was wrong. When he told the server what had happened, they poured him a shot of high-grade and told him it was on the house, as many as he'd like. The mech didn't usually drink, so he said he didn't need it, but the server said 'you will after I tell you what happened out in that jungle.'

"It turned out that, stellar-cycles ago, a small convoy of transport mecha travelling through that area had stopped for the night before heading on to the city, where they were due next cycle. But they never showed up, and their transponders had stopped broadcasting. A search party was sent out, and eventually they found the convoy – or at least, what was left of them. _Something_ had found them in the night and ripped them to pieces. It hadn't been thieves because the cargo was still there. There were no signs of a fight, and it was said later that their systems all went offline within nano-kliks of each other. Whatever, whoever killed them had been so fast they hadn't had time to even start their engines and try to get away. Since then, the server said, there had been reports of mecha going missing in that area, or feeling like they were being watched when they drove through. The server had heard stories of spirals of tire tracks found after disappearances but, he said, the mech was the first one he'd ever met who'd gotten away while they were being made. It's said that the mech downed his high-grade, delivered his cargo, and never drove long-distance again. And whatever had been stalking him that night has never been found, from that cycle to this."

Bluestreak shivered, suddenly very aware of how dark it was and how close the jungle came to their campsite. The cable-vines were awfully thick here, they could hide anything.

"Okay – okay, I'm not going to question that one," Bluestreak said, inching closer to the light. "That was _spooky_, Hound!"

"Too spooky?"

"Well…I think maybe I've had enough of sitting out in nature for a bit," Bluestreak admitted. "And I'm definitely not going to recharge in alt!"

"We should be okay," Hound said. "I've never heard a version where anyone was attacked while they were in a tent."

"That could just mean no one ever found any evidence of it," Bluestreak countered automatically.

Hound stared at him for a few nano-kliks. "Now you're creeping _me _out," he said finally.

"Yeah. Bedtime?" Bluestreak suggested.

"Yeah."

They turned off the heat lamp and crawled into their tent. They had individual recharge mats, but they were laid side-by-side and linked to act like a single one. Bluestreak tucked his doors into a sleeping position appropriate for the tent and lay down next to Hound, head on his court-mate's chest.

"You're not really worried about creatures in the night, are you?" Hound asked. "I know things can be a little scarier out here than they would be in a building or a city."

"Prowl taught me how to fight long before the Academy did." Bluestreak snuggled closer into Hound's side and put an arm over him. "I'll protect you, Hound."

Hound's arms came around him, hugging him tightly. "I know you will, kitten. Goodnight."

"'Night."

Spooky stories or not, Bluestreak had one of the best recharges of his life to date that night.

He still checked for mystery tire tracks in the morning, though.


	2. The Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on a routine patrol, Prowl and Mirage run into a mysterious phenomenon hiding a decades-old secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 5: Lost in the mist  
\---  
CW: Implied/Referenced Stalking and Implied/Referenced Suicide

Even though he was the Autobot's Chief of Staff, Prowl still took on regular patrols. Given their numbers, small to the total area of even just the US, no one could be spared from going on patrol, even if it were just occasionally. That day, Prowl had been assigned to patrol with Mirage, and they were half-way through, driving along a straight stretch of highway that ran through a forest. They had just left a small human town about fifteen minutes behind them and weren't anticipating much traffic, human or otherwise, along the route. Prowl was entertaining the thought of holding non-mission-relevant conversation with Mirage since they'd each been busy lately, and neither had had much time for the other. There was no Decepticon activity in this area, and the day, while slightly overcast, was not an unpleasant one. Perhaps once patrol was done they could even find a secluded space to spend some time together away from the Ark.

However, as they entered the thickest part of the forest, a mist began to creep in from the sides of the road. Soon it became dense enough that, for the sake of prudence, Prowl flipped his high beams on and raised his scanner's sensitivity another level. They didn't register anything nearby, not even Mirage and Prowl extended his scanner reach as far as he could. Surely it would pick up the trees? The sensors again failed to register anything, and a diagnostic insisted that everything was green across the board.

'_Do you have anything on your sensors, Mirage?'_ Prowl asked. If Mirage was as well, it could be the result of something in the area interfering with them both, though Prowl couldn't imagine what that could be.

Mirage, who was behind him and nearly invisible in the dense mist, swiftly thickening into a fog, even without using his ability, took a moment before reporting back. Presumably, he was running the same scans, and diagnostics Prowl had.

'_I'm afraid they're not reading anything whatsoever, Prowl._'

'_Mm.'_ Prowl frowned and turned his high beams off again to conserve energy. '_Something about this fog is strange. We're nowhere near a body of water, let alone one large enough to cause this much water vapour to condense. I can barely even see the road._'

'_Maybe we could drive out of it?_' Mirage suggested. '_Backtrack to where it's clear and find another route? We can't be very far into it, and I doubt there'll be much human traffic in weather like this._'

If it was weather; one could never discount the possibility of a Decepticon weapon, but there was absolutely nothing out here to attract them. Prowl considered. They couldn't see the road, but they could at least feel it. They would know if they lost their bearings again and began to go off onto the shoulder. Prowl consulted the topographic maps SkySpy had provided and found a route that would not take them too far off the one assigned for their patrol, or cost them much time.

'_Very well,_' he agreed. '_But stay close. I don't want to lose track of each other in this._' Usually that should have been difficult, but the fog was very thick, and their sensors weren't of use. They had to rely on visual contact only.

They transformed and slowly, with Mirage practically tailgating Prowl, headed back the way they'd come. Prowl calculated it would take fifteen minutes to make it out of the fog at their current speed, but when twenty went by, then twenty-five, he began to have doubts.

'_Pull over and transform_,' he ordered Mirage finally. They edged slowly off the road until their right-side tires bit into the dirt, then transformed. The sounds echoed eerily all around them.

"We should have been there by now." Prowl enjoyed a good mystery as much as the next mech, but he disliked the irrational. Obviously, they'd made a wrong turn, although he couldn’t understand how. The road was straight through this part of the forest, and they had not deviated from the asphalt. "Something is wrong."

"It's like we didn't make any progress at all." Mirage looked around, frowning. "Prowl, I hate to ask, but are you sure we weren't driving into the fog? We didn't get turned around?"

"I am." Prowl pinged SkySpy for coordinates and failed to get a response. He asked Mirage to try, and the spy experienced the same thing. He tried to contact an Autobot, any Autobot, but couldn't get through. "I don't like this. This doesn't make any sense."

Mirage put a hand on Prowl's upper arm, clearly concerned. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes, for now." Prowl didn't crash nearly as often as was joked about, but given the irrationality of their situation, he understood Mirage's concern. I just need to plan out what to do."

"I – " Mirage looked out beyond Prowl. "There's a car coming. Two of them, in fact."

"Decepticons?"

Mirage shook his head. "I don't recognize the engine sounds. They're humans, I think. There's no technology or energy out here for the Decepticons to steal anyway."

Prowl considered trying to stop the cars and ask for directions, then reconsidered in the face of the likely human response to that. It would likely not be favourable and frightening humans, even accidentally, went against Autobot principles. Although, the sight of two Autobots standing by the side of the road might cause the humans to stop on their own.

The humans did stop, but not near or within sight of the Autobots. There was the screeching of two sets of tires, and at least three car doors slammed in rapid succession. There was shouting, and though the individual words weren't understandable, Prowl had spent too long as an Enforcer not to recognize the sounds of incipient violence, and he allotted extra processing power to locating the source of the sound.

"Prowl," Mirage said, clearly uncomfortable, not liking their inability to act any more than Prowl did. But without a vector, dashing off into the fog wouldn't do anyone any good.

"I know," Prowl replied. "Just give me – "

Car doors slammed, one after the other and the only words Prowl was able to make out rang furiously through the night.

"_You can't keep her from me!_"

An engine came swiftly out of idle and grew louder, clearly coming toward them. A second engine roared furiously and gave chase. Prowl also knew the sound of a car chase when he heard one, and the two vehicles should be passing any minute now. If he stopped the chase car –

The cars passed them, and the fog remained undisturbed. There was only sound to indicate anything had gone by them, no cars, no headlights, taillights, nothing.

"Prowl," Mirage said urgently even as Prowl ruthlessly ran a crash-prevention workaround that he would hear about from Ratchet later.

As soon as the name was out of Mirage's voice box, they heard the sound of a side-to-side collision. Once, twice, and then the great clanging crash of a car being run off the road. They could hear branches snapping and then a metallic crunch as a car impacted a tree or boulder.

Prowl was finally able to locate the source of the sound, and he grabbed Mirage's arm to keep the spy with him and ran off to see what had happened, if anyone needed help, queuing up instructions on human first aid on his HUD. They had not heard the second car leave, but there was no vehicle where Prowl's sensors said one should be.

"We'll have to separate," he said grimly. "Mirage, look for the second car, it should still be somewhere on the road. I'll go after the first one. It's got to be nearby, and there may be injured humans."

"Right. Turn on your headlights so I can find you in this mess if I need to."

Prowl obliged, not least because he could use them in his search. But a check of the ground didn't reveal the kind of disturbance to the vegetation Prowl expected. Could the vehicle have been going fast enough to be airborne? He doubted it, but…

Prowl followed his projected course down an embankment, to a flatter area filled with bushes and trees and still didn't see anything. Curious now, and concerned, he pushed a tree back and looked down. The light from his headlights glinted dully off a broken side-view mirror, dangling from the driver's door of a crashed vehicle. Something didn't look right, though, and Prowl crouched down, pushing aside branches to get a better look. The car's paint was patchy and dull, the windows filmy with dirt, and the tires had long since rotted away. In the front seats –

Prowl sighed sadly, then stood up and carefully retraced his steps back to the road to avoid further contaminating the scene. He had been an Autobot longer than he'd been an Enforcer by now, but the old training stayed with him.

"Prowl?" Mirage called when he heard the sound of Prowl walking on asphalt again. "Did you find them?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "I did. We'll need to alert the human authorities. Emergency services will not be required. In fact, I'd say they haven't been for a long time."

"But – oh."

Around them, the fog began to thin.

* * *

"There names are Dave Wilson and Erica Thomas," one of the officers who arrived in response to Prowl's call to the nearest non-emergency line. "They went missing about thirty years ago. Erica's ex had been - well, these days we'd call it stalking her, trying to get her back. Everyone figured they'd just gotten sick of it and run off somewhere – they didn't get along so great with their families, so it wasn't a surprise no one heard from them. Then the families moved away, so no one knew if they heard from them or not. Oh, sure, people looked, but no one ever found a trace."

"And now you know why," Mirage said, watching the officers bring the first of the body bags up to the waiting coroner's van.

"What happened to the stalker?" Prowl asked.

"He drove his car off a cliff about a month after Dave and Erica disappeared. His mother died six months later, and his father turned into an alcoholic. A tragedy pretty much all the way through, I'd call it."

"Yes," Prowl murmured.

"How did you find the wreck, if you don't mind my asking?" the officer wanted to know. "Can't think of any reason you'd go off the road like that, not like there's much to see besides trees. There weren't Decepticons around, were there?"

"No," Prowl reassured him. "You're in no danger from Decepticons."

"Huh." The officer had looked over to check on the retrieval, now he looked back up at Prowl. "Was it foggy?"

Prowl and Mirage exchanged glances.

"There was fog, yes," Prowl answered cautiously.

The officer nodded. "Yeah, thought so. It's been a problem on this stretch for a while. Got a feeling there's going to be less fog around from now on, though."

Prowl watched the second body bag being brought up the hill. "Yes, I think it likely that there will."

* * *

There were no relatives at the joint funeral of David Wilson and Erica Thomas, buried together a week later. It was attended by townspeople who knew the legend and a few who remembered the couple, the officers who had attended the scene and, parked next to the cemetery fence, a Ligier JS11 and a Datsun 280Z.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a surprising number of stock photos of abandoned cars.
> 
> One thing I love about the 80s cartoon is just how utterly blasé humans are about the Autobots. 90% of the time it's like 'huh, giant alien robots, cool. What's up?'


	3. Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out and Dreadwing find a way to spend the time while hiding from the Autobots overnight in a junkyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 6: Stuck together somewhere scary til morning.

"Ugh, just look at this place," Knock Out complained, folding his arms and looking around the junkyard impatiently. "So much rust and decay. I feel like I'll get a rust infection just _standing_ here."

"My self-repair systems will have completed repairs on my wing by morning," Dreadwing said, looking over his shoulder at the wing in question. "The Autobots will no doubt have given up their pursuit by then."

"Yes, or captured us," Knock Out said pointedly. He turned and looked at Dreadwing, sighing when he saw the condition of the mech's wing. "Here, let me take a look at it. I can at least make sure it's sealed properly."

Dreadwing knelt on the dirt floor of the generously-named shelter they'd found so Knock Out could reach his wing. The Seeker waited patiently while Knock Out fussed over the injury, coating it liberally with nanite-rich salve.

"And there we are," Knock Out said finally, stepping back. "Pity there's nothing to be done about your paint job, but I suppose we can't have everything."

"My paint can be attended to once we return to the _Nemesis_," Dreadwing said, standing. "Your repairs will more than suffice until then." His big hands came to rest on Knock Out's waist. "It is unfortunate that the first time we have such privacy comes under these circumstances."

"Mm, true." Knock Out did a quick sensor sweep for Autobots or – ugh – humans then leaned into Dreadwing's broad chest. "It would almost be romantic if not for the Autobots hunting us and the _corpses _out there. I keep feeling like they're going to come to life. Can you imagine? Dull headlights glowing, the knocking of poorly tuned engines?"

Dreadwing chuckled; Knock Out appreciated the way it rumbled through his lover's structure.

"You have been watching too many of the humans' horror movies, I fear," Dreadwing said affectionately. "Do not worry, Knock Out, I will keep you safe."

Knock Out didn't particularly need protection, but the sentiment was sweet, he supposed. But if he were going to be somewhere with Dreadwing until the morning, he could think of better things to do than debate his combat abilities.

"I'm sure you will," Knock Out purred, idly trailing a talon along an armour seam he knew to be particularly sensitive. "Or, you could always, mm, _distract _me instead?"

Dreadwing tipped Knock Out's chin up, smiling at him. "Perhaps I could at that."

Knock Out loved the way Dreadwing kissed, with the same intensity the big seeker used in everything he did. Interfacing with Dreadwing was – well, maybe they couldn't go that far tonight, safety and all that, but Knock Out could think about it, couldn't he?

"You are not becoming distracted the way I intend," Dreadwing said with mild reproof. "Shall I stop?"

Knock Out smirked up at him. "I was just thinking about what else we could do once we're, you know, not at risk of being detected by Autobots. How," he ran a hand up Dreadwing's arm, "big and strong you are. You could hurt me easily, but you won't."

"You like the idea of danger, even knowing I would never hurt you."

"Mhm." Knock Out stretched up for another kiss. "Big, strong, dangerous, and _all_ _mine_."

Dreadwing cupped Knock Out's jaw in one hand and ran a thumb over his cheek-strut, looking fond and possessive, exactly the way Knock Out liked it. "Just so."

The night got colder, and the junkyard became no more appealing when the moon rose, but neither of them particularly noticed.


	4. Mutual Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak and Mirage have more in common than most would think, including, unfortunately, nightmares and flashbacks. Fortunately, they each know what to do for the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 20: In the dark

Bluestreak was woken in the night when Mirage cried out softly in his sleep. Bluestreak knew that kind of noise well, from the inside. His court-mate usually didn't make any sounds at all when he stayed overnight with Bluestreak: they each calmed the other down, one of the benefits and sometimes the cause of them sharing a bed. Bluestreak also knew better than to shake Mirage or touch him at all. Startling anyone in the middle of a flashback was a horrible idea to begin with. Startling a Spec Ops mech…well, you might survive if they were shaking too badly to hit your spark chamber, but that was a big if.

"Mirage, sweetspark," Bluestreak said instead. "Hey, it's Bluestreak. You're okay, Mirage. You're in the Ark, in my quarters, you're safe. It's alright, love, I'm right here…"

Bluestreak's ability to talk without pausing for long periods came in handy at times like these. He'd talked down Prowl and Jazz at times as well. He kept repeating variations on the theme of 'I'm here, you're safe, it's okay' until Mirage settled and Bluestreak couldn't hear his defence systems trying to engage anymore. Good. Bluestreak wished he could put an arm over Mirage, hold him, but he didn't want to set off whatever the nightmare had been again. Bluestreak stayed awake a little longer, watching carefully to see if Mirage would have another flashback, and only let himself sleep when he was sure the other mech was alright.

In the morning, Bluestreak woke up alone in bed but not alone in his quarters. Mirage had obviously been up early and gone to the galley and back because he'd brought breakfast.

"Breakfast in bed?" Mirage offered, crossing over to him.

"Sounds great." Bluestreak sat up, back against the headboard. "Join me?"

"Certainly." Mirage sat at the opposite end, cross-legged and facing Bluestreak. "I gather I was something of a restless bedmate last night? I could feel the aftereffects when I woke up."

"You were a little bit," Bluestreak said as he opened his cube. "I did wake up, but it didn't take long to talk you back down. You'd have done the same for me. You _have _done the same for me."

"Usually, your presence keeps me calm even in my sleep." Mirage looked down into his fuel. "It must have been dreadful, but I'm sure it would have been worse if I hadn't been with you. Did I say anything? I woke feeling as though I'd been shouting."

"You cried out once," Bluestreak told him. "But there weren't any words."

"Was that what woke you?" Mirage was still looking into his fuel.

"Hey." Bluestreak leaned forward and put a hand on Mirage's knee, looking into his optics. "You know I don't mind, love. I've woken you up, too. D'you need anything now you're awake?"

Mirage smiled, just a little. "You want to cuddle, don't you?"

Bluestreak did, but he didn't want to push. If Mirage hadn't had a flashback last night, he'd have just said 'yes,' but Mirage could be iffy about touch after an episode sometimes.

"If you do," Bluestreak said neutrally.

Mirage's smile widened, and he moved to sit next to Bluestreak, leaning into his side. Bluestreak's arm went around his shoulders, and Mirage relaxed. So did Bluestreak.

"Do you have a shift coming up?" Mirage asked.

"Not till later today. Patrolling with Hound. I can stay here a while longer."

"So can I." Mirage resealed his cube and set it aside, then put his head down on Bluestreak's chest. "Put out the lights and just hold me for a while, darling?"

Bluestreak hugged him with one arm and kissed the graceful curve of his helm. "Gladly, love. Gladly."

* * *

Bluestreak's turn for nightmares came the following deca-cycle, but Mirage was out on patrol, and he woke up alone, spark spinning frantically and every sensor on alert. One of the humans' buildings had collapsed during the last Decepticon attack and the sound of it – Bluestreak had thought he'd been okay, but his reaction had just been delayed. Otherwise, he'd have asked Mirage to stay or Ratchet for some sort of recharge aid.

Bluestreak curled up on his bed and shut his optics off, sending a test ping to Mirage, just to see if the mech was in range yet.

'_Having a bad night, darling?'_

Bluestreak felt a rush of relief. The patrol must have gone well, meaning Mirage was alright, and he was close.

'_Nightmares._'

'_I'm ten kliks out. Nothing happened, so debrief will be short. Will you be alright for twenty kliks?_'

Twenty kliks was a long time when an episode was ongoing, but Bluestreak was mostly out of it now. '_I think so. If I'm not, Smokescreen's on base. Same with Jazz and Prowl. I can comm one of them and talk for a bit._'

Reassuring glyphs fluttered over the connection. '_I'll be there as soon as I can, Bluestreak. Do you want to keep an open comm line?_'

Despite everything, Bluestreak smiled, though he knew it was shaky. '_That would be nice, thank you._' He wouldn't talk over it, necessarily, but it would be good to know Mirage was _there_.

_'Alright, darling. I'll be with you soon._'

Mirage was there in fifteen kliks, not twenty, slipping into Bluestreak's room as quietly as a cybercat. Bluestreak didn't uncurl. He knew Mirage would understand.

"I'm here," Mirage said softly. "May I lie down with you, against your back, and hold you?"

Bluestreak shifted a door so Mirage could do that. "Yes, please."

"Alright." Mirage lay down, moving slowly, and pressed himself up against Bluestreak's back, wrapping an arm over his waist. "Better?"

Bluestreak threaded their fingers together, feeling reassured. "Much."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet. This is good right now, but maybe later I'll want to talk."

"Alright." Mirage squeezed Bluestreak's hand gently. "I'll be right here whenever you're ready."

Bluestreak smiled, and it wasn't so shaky this time. "I know. Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, darling."

The rest of Bluestreak's sleep was dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end of the 'treats,' the last two are 'tricks.' 😊


	5. Skyfrost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bumblebee and Knock Out stop off for supplies at a well-travelled space station and pick up a lost traveller who has to get home to Cybertron and who may not be what she seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 22: Phantom hitchhiker(s)
> 
> This is absolutely my favourite urban legend. Retold with giant robots and a spaceship.

"Why do we have to stop here?" Knock Out complained. "I've been away from Cybertron too long already. That hospital isn't going to run itself, you know."

Bumblebee didn't even bother to look over. "We're stopping here, Knock Out, because we have to restock engine coolant. There wasn't enough in stores to make the trip out and back. It's one of the reasons we went to the G'alra'thi on a trade mission to begin with. Restored by the Omega Lock or not, it's still going to take time to get resource extraction and production up and running on Cybertron."

Knock Out sighed. "I _know _why we're out here, _and _why we have to stop. I'm not questioning that, I'm questioning why it has to be _this specific station_. I mean, just look at it!" He sank deeper into his chair, muttering something that sounded a lot like, "wretched hive of scum and villainy."

Bumblebee recognized the quote. It was hard to spend any time around humans and _not _know some part of _Star Wars_.

"Did you just quote _A New Hope_?"

Knock Out glanced over as if startled, then just as quickly looked away. "…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh. I'm going to radio station traffic control, let them give us a docking bay and a beacon in."

The docking bay they were given was a decent one, close to the station's Operations and Retail levels, and far roomier than their runabout needed. It was clean but seemed somehow abandoned, as if ships didn't use it very often. Bumblebee supposed it was a little strange for a bay on a relatively busy, if slightly run-down, station to feel empty and abandoned like this, but maybe it had been undergoing maintenance or something until recently.

The station had clearly been built with multiple species in mind, but even so, Bumblebee was glad he and Knock Out were among the smaller Cybertronians. Ratchet would have had trouble getting his shoulders through the doors without turning sideways. Ultra Magnus would have had to stay on the ship. Optimus…

It still hurt to think about Optimus.

"When we find someplace that sells engine coolant for out-of-production Cybertronian ships, let me do any negotiating," Knock Out said as he strolled through the station's Retail sector at Bumblebee's side. "You come across as far too nice. They'll think they can take you."

"What, and you won't have that problem?"

Knock Out smirked and inspected his talons. "Most of the vendors here are organics. They've got an innate fear of anything red and _spiky_."

Bumblebee sighed. "Just don't threaten anyone, alright?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Knock Out might have been teasing, but that didn't stop Bumblebee giving him a skeptical look. The doctor heaved a sigh. "Oh, very well."

Bumblebee had to admit, Knock Out was pretty good at haggling. He even managed to do it with a couple of merchants who claimed they had set prices. They didn't wind up spending as much as Bumblebee had budgeted for, which was especially good given Cybertron's shaky relationship with the galactic exchange rate.

"You did a good job back there," Bumblebee told his companion as they headed back to the ship, purchases in tow. "Thanks, Knock Out."

Knock Out preened a little, then immediately pretended he hadn't. "Just doing my part."

When they got into their docking bay, they were surprised to see another Cybertronian pacing back and forth just inside. They were hugging a small carved crystal to their chest and seemed upset.

"Um, hi," Bumblebee said, going over to them. "Are you okay? Is there anything we can help you with?"

'_What do you mean, 'we?''_

Bumblebee ignored Knock Out and tried again. "Is there something you need? What's your name?"

That seemed to get their attention.

"I'm Skyfrost of Yuss," she said shyly, with an oddly static-y and hard to read ID burst. "I need to get back home."

"Back to Cybertron?" Bumblebee did a quick calculation; they had just enough energon for another mech if they dipped into emergency stores near the end of the voyage. "Sure, we can take you back to Cybertron. I mean, Yuss isn't – " he broke off. "We can get you back and then you can see what you want to do. Okay?"

Skyfrost nodded. "Yes. I need to get back home."

_'You can't be serious,' _was Knock Out's immediate reaction, though at least he was diplomatic enough to speak out over comms.

'_It's a mission of mercy_,' Bumblebee insisted. '_Optimus would have wanted us to do it._'

Knock Out sighed. '_Fine. I just hope this doesn't end badly._'

Bumblebee and Knock Out got their cargo aboard, and transformed the third bunk out in the passenger cabin for her. While they piloted the ship, she seemed to just…sit there. It was almost impossible to get anything out of her besides one-word answers and 'I need to get back home.' Knock Out tried to scan her, but the readings he got back were strange. He thought at first, his scanners weren't working, but they ran just fine when he checked Bumblebee or himself.

"There's something strange about that mech," Knock Out muttered to Bumblebee on the bridge one day. "I can't get anything approaching a decent read on her, and I don't have the facilities here to do anything else."

"You can check her out in the Medibay aboard the _Nemesis_ when we get back to Cybertron." The former Decepticon flagship was still the closest thing they had to a functioning governmental and medical facility. "You'll figure it out then."

Knock Out huffed. "Of course I will!"

Bumblebee tried a few more times to draw Skyfrost out, but he didn't have any luck.

"Is there anything you can do for her that doesn't require a scanner?" he asked Knock Out.

"Mm. I think she needs a therapist, not exactly my specialty. Don't you Autobots have someone?" Knock Out asked. "I'd think that touchy-feely, sparks-and-crystals stuff would be right up your alley."

"I don't know," Bumblebee said quietly. "We used to – but I don't know if any of them are still alive. They never answered Optimus' transmission, and none of them have come home."

"Oh." Knock Out seemed to be struggling to come up with an answer to that. "I – well, maybe they'll still show up. I mean, it hasn't been that long since the Omega Lock restored Cybertron."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"I'm sure everything will be fine," Knock Out said hesitantly, in the tone of someone not used to offering reassurance. Knock Out made a little gesture, like he was going to reach out and offer Bumblebee comfort but wasn't sure if he should. "Just fine."

Bumblebee smiled at him. "Thanks, Knock Out."

They arrived at Cybertron without further incident, and Bumblebee finally got something else out of Skyfrost, her creators' names: Windflight and Highcoil, also of Yuss. Yuss wasn't anywhere near ready for anyone to inhabit yet, but Bumblebee searched the lists of returned Cybertronians and found them.

"We'll take her to her creators first," Bumblebee said as they landed their ship. "It's about time they were reunited. We'll bring her to the _Nemesis_ tomorrow so you can run your scans, okay?"

"Fine, fine."

Once they'd landed, Bumblebee found Skyfrost again and gave her the news.

"That's good," she said softly. "I need to get back home."

She didn't show any outward sign of emotion and Bumblebee made a mental note to have Knock Out check her emotional coprocessors for damage. It could have been purely psychological trauma, too, but, well, they weren't really equipped to help with that. Not yet and not nearly as much as they were physiological problems, anyway.

"Okay," Bumblebee promised. "We'll get you back home. Follow me."

Bumblebee took point Skyfrost flew overhead, tracking them from above. The streets in the small residential sector were cleared now, thanks to Bulkhead and his Vehicons, and the trip to Skyfrost's creators' assigned housing unit didn't take long. They transformed at the little single-storey row house and Knock Out walked up to Bumblebee, probably expecting Skyfrost to land between them. She didn't.

"Skyfrost?" Bumblebee asked with a frown, turning around. She was gone, but the little crystal box she'd clutched the whole way to Cybertron sat in the transformation lane, and Skyfrost was nowhere in sight. "Skyfrost!"

Bumblebee felt the faint wash of an active scan and looked at Knock Out, who shook his head.

"She's not showing up on my scanners and look at this place: there's nowhere she could get to without us hearing her, and we'd see her if she were still in the sky."

Bumblebee picked up the box. "Maybe – I don't know – maybe she landed behind the house? Went in that way?"

It didn't explain how the box had gotten behind him and Knock Out, but Bumblebee didn't have any other ideas. He sounded the door chime and waited for the residents to answer. A few nano-kliks later, a blue and white mech with a flight alt came to the door.

"Um, hi," Bumblebee started, sending his ID ping. He got one back with the mech's data. "Windflight, right? We, ah – "

Windflight was staring at the box. Bumblebee trailed off, sure he had the right place but unsure of what to do next.

"Where did you find it?" Windflight asked. "The box, where…?"

A second mech, smaller and painted brown and orange, came up and put a hand on Windflight's arm. "'Flight, what are you – where did you _find _that?"

Bumblebee and Knock Out glanced at each other. It seemed pretty clear from Windflight and Highcoil's reactions that Skyfrost wasn't there.

"We-we met a mech named Skyfrost on a space station," Bumblebee said hesitantly. "She had this, and she kept saying she had to get home. We brought her here, but – I don't know where she went."

"I – " Windflight's words failed him, and he clutched the box to his chest plates. Highcoil put a hand on his shoulder, and they seemed to lean into each other.

"Skyfrost was our creation," Highcoil explained quietly. "She died, many vorns ago, and it was her. There was no question. The box it's-it's…"

"She carved it for us," Windflight said, voice laced with static, "when she was younger, just before we left Cybertron. We couldn't find it…after."

"We thought it was lost," Highcoil said. "Thank you for bringing it back to us. It means – I – "

Knock Out looked different at that moment. Older, grief-stricken…sympathetic?

"I think I understand," the ex-Decepticon said very quietly. "I lost someone I – I'm just glad we were able to bring something of hers back to you. If there's anything else, just contact me. I-I'm very sorry for your loss."

"But you brought this back to us. I know it's an object and others have lost more, but – it's all we have of her. Thank you," Highcoil said gratefully. "Thank you."

Bumblebee found Knock Out joors later on the observation deck of the _Nemesis_. The doctor was staring out over Cybertron, arms folded, clearly lost in thought. Bumblebee made his steps loud on purpose as he crossed the floor, but Knock Out didn't look up until Bumblebee's reflection appeared in the window next to his.

Knock Out started. "Huh? Oh…hello. Did you want something?"

Bumblebee shook his head. "I just came to check on you. You doing okay?"

"Yes, of – " Knock Out abruptly cut himself off. "No. I keep thinking about Skyfrost, how she had that one last thing to do. Do you think – could there be others? Like her?"

"You mean Breakdown?" Bumblebee asked quietly.

Knock Out looked away. "I don't even know where I'd start to look for him. I don't know if it was near where Megatron sent him or where MECH…"

"I don't know about MECH, but we have access to the space bridge logs," Bumblebee said and put a hand on Knock Out's shoulder. "Next time we're on Earth, I'll help you look. If you want."

Knock Out looked at the hand on his shoulder, then at Bumblebee's face. "I – thank you."

Bumblebee smiled at him. "You're welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?"

"I was just going to look out the window for a bit. You could stay. If you want to, I mean."

"Sure," Bumblebee agreed. "For a bit."

They stood together and looked out over a restored Cybertron. If Knock Out moved a little bit closer, Bumblebee didn't say anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things I regret about TF:P ending with the _Predacons Rising_ movie instead of a proper 4th season is that we never had a chance to see Knock Out's redemption arc.


	6. Anomalous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron and Soundwave investigate the cause of mysterious breakdowns at one of the energon mines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 30: Ghosts and spirits

The canyon where Megatron had first raised dead mecha by the power of dark energon was not the only such Cybertronian battlefield. Almost forgotten by everyone involved in the war, save Soundwave who never forgot anything, were several others scattered around the Earth, undiscovered by the primitive humans. They had never discovered energon either, almost as if it were invisible to them. Exactly how was a mildly curious thing, but Megatron dismissed it as one more sign of their inferiority. It was convenient, at least, that humans were rarely found near sources of energon, and there was no need to expend energy on exterminating them. All energon produced by the mines could, therefore, be used to serve the Decepticon Cause, and the mines were producing well, save one.

The mine that was not producing as it should be was located near one ancient battlefield, had probably been the cause of that battle. The miners reported difficulties with their equipment, frequent breakdowns, and the mine had the highest repairs cost of all their operations on Earth. Mining equipment that was brought in, functional, from another location would stop working only to begin again once it was removed. Megatron wanted to snarl and rage at incompetence, but a worker who was incompetent at one mine would still be so at another.

Besides, Megatron had been a miner once, long ago, and he knew that mines, especially the deeper ones, were sometimes the homes to strange things. This mine was very deep indeed.

The miners began to whisper that the mine was cursed or haunted, though only where Megatron couldn't hear. Soundwave heard, of course. Soundwave heard everything.

"It is not cursed," Megatron growled. Soundwave only looked up at him, patient and waiting as always, though since they were in Megatron's quarters and not on the bridge, also sitting in his lap. "I will go to the mine myself and prove it."

Soundwave nodded once, then leaned against Megatron's chest and began to distract him with other, more pleasant things.

* * *

Megatron stalked through the mine, sensors on alert for anything unusual. He hadn't been a miner for a very, very long time, but he'd never forgotten – never _let _himself forget – what it was like to spend almost all his time in the tunnels. This mine had been dug by and for Decepticon miners and Megatron had just enough clearance to get through some of the tunnels. Soundwave, trailing him on a rare journey off the _Nemesis_, had considerably less trouble.

"You never saw the mines, did you Soundwave?" Megatron asked reflectively. "No, of course not. I, however, spent many years in the mines of Messatine, years of thankless drudgery, and yet at times, strange things did happen. But I do not believe in curses or spirits. As for the things I saw in the deep mines, I have no explanation, but one must have existed."

_Possible explanations: unknown creatures/vibrational patterns/sonic anomalies, _Soundwave texted.

"All far more likely, yes," Megatron agreed.

They walked on, and Megatron noticed that the mine seemed to become darker, feel smaller, even though his sensors told him it had the same illumination level and dimensions as the previous tunnels. It was strange, yes, but not something that could cause an equipment malfunction. Megatron was just about to head back to the surface, ready to declare the mine free of hostiles, when Soundwave texted him to wait and listen.

Megatron paused, trying to hear what Soundwave heard, even though Soundwave's sensors in that regard were far superior. Soundwave stood still, listening, and at last, pointed to a tunnel branching off the one they were in.

"What is it, Soundwave?"

Soundwave only pointed again. So, Soundwave didn't know either, hm? Curious.

Megatron entered the tunnel Soundwave had indicated. It felt as if his shoulders should be brushing the stone, even though his sensors still told him he had more than enough clearance. He disliked the disconnect between the reality his sensors gave him and what he _felt_. But he would not be defeated by nothing more than a strange feeling: Megatron pressed on.

Perhaps a dozen steps into the tunnel, he thought he heard voices. Not the voices of his Decepticons, but the vaguely unpleasant, organic sounds of human speech, though there was something – hollow about it.

"Soundwave, analyze those sounds."

Soundwave was silent, of course, but Megatron could easily picture the analysis running across his visor. And yet, it seemed to take longer than it should. Megatron was about to prompt his spymaster when Soundwave sent the results.

_Sounds: anomalous. Source: unknown. Language: detected._

"Play it back, Soundwave," Megatron ordered.

The words were about the speakers' ownership of the mine, the presence of intruders, and the need to protect what was theirs and drive away the intruders – who Megatron presumed to be his miners. There was also a discussion about gold, which Megatron was somewhat aware humans found valuable for reasons other than its usefulness in electronics.

"Enough," Megatron ordered. "What else have your sensors found here?"

_Anomalous electromagnetic fields: present. Suggest: EM anomalies and audio anomalies are linked._

"And could these anomalies be responsible for the equipment malfunctions?"

_Possible. Data: inconclusive._

"Hnh. I have no patience for this." Megatron turned and began to leave. Such nonsense. "Deal with it, Soundwave."

_Soundwave: obeys_.

Soundwave's solution was simple and elegant: he brought an EMP generator to the tunnel, placed it where the anomalous fields were clustered, and detonated it. The equipment malfunctions ceased immediately, and energon production levels began to return to normal. A minor vein of gold was located, and the mineral retrieved for future use.

As to the true nature of the anomalies, Megatron never found out, nor did he care.


End file.
